


helping hand

by waveydnp



Series: 2020 charity fics [4]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comeplay, Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:26:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24495676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/pseuds/waveydnp
Summary: dan wakes up as he fell asleep - with phil’s hand down his pants
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Series: 2020 charity fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1766818
Comments: 22
Kudos: 199





	helping hand

Dan is on the sofa. The tv is on, and Phil is behind him, his chest the perfect surface for Dan to slump his weight against. 

There’s scarcely room for them to cuddle like this. One of Phil’s legs doesn’t even fit, hanging off the edge with his foot flat against the floor. The other is wedged between the back of the couch and Dan. 

Phil laughs a low, quiet laugh, and Dan feels the breath of it against the side of his face. His head is tilted back against Phil’s shoulder, eyes only half open to the show that’s playing in front of him.

He’d be bored if the contentment wasn’t bone deep and warm as Phil’s arm wrapped loosely around his middle, fingers fiddling with the elastic waistband of Dan’s sweats.

To be bored right now is a privilege. He knows it. To be content is something even more, something that makes guilt bubble up around his tired edges. 

But that’s what this is about, this cuddle, this little time out from a constant barrage of news that had Dan in tears and Phil insisting it was time to unplug. Just for a little while, Dan had agreed, reluctantly, eventually. Just an hour or two. It’s hard to escape the cycle of wanting to get away and then feeling guilty that his station in life affords him that right, but the sound of Phil’s quiet laughter and the solidness of him at Dan’s back is helping a little. 

He turns his head and pushes his face into Phil’s neck. He’s stubbled there and smells so very much like him, and when Dan parts his lips against Phil’s skin, Phil slips a hand down the front of his trousers. He scratches through hair that hasn’t been trimmed in ages, and Dan turns his eyes back to the telly. There’s no urgency in Phil’s touch, not even intention, really. It’s just comfort, for him and Dan alike, an intimate place to rest his fingers while they allow a rewatch of Bake Off to lull them towards a nap. 

Phil reaches down a little lower and cups Dan’s balls, and the warmth makes him shudder. He could probably get hard if he allowed his thoughts to drift in that direction, but his whole body feels heavy with relaxation, and sex requires more energy than he cares to scrounge for at the moment. He doesn’t fight it when his eyes drift closed.

-

When they open again, the room is darker. The sun hasn’t set yet, but it’s getting there. He’s been asleep for a while, they both have. He tries to stretch, to take stock of his body and begin the process of waking himself up properly, but there’s something stopping him.

Phil’s hand is still tucked inside Dan’s pants. And unlike before, he’s very, very hard. 

He doesn’t have a dream to blame. It’s all Phil, whose long soft fingers are laid over his dick like he’s been guarding it from harm in his sleep. Dan shifts a little, just to see what’ll happen. Phil makes a sleepy noise and flexes his hand instinctively, and the movement makes Dan realize he’s not just hard, he’s aching.

His brain catches up quickly, and within moments it becomes clear that something will need to happen. He could try to get up without waking Phil, go to the bedroom or the shower and wank one out, but—

He reaches down, wrapping his hand around Phil’s from the outside of his sweatpants. The decision is made without any real conscious thought, then, because even just that little bit of pressure is so good that his cock throbs with the desire for more. Phil stirs, and Dan keeps pressing down on his hand so he won’t pull it free as he wakes up.

Dan listens to Phil’s noises as he slowly wakes up. It’s a real test of patience not to just shove his own hand in there to give himself some relief, but he wants Phil for this. 

Phil grunts a little, smushing his face into the side of Dan’s. “That what I think it is?” he mumbles thick and groggy right next to Dan’s ear.

Dan answers by squeezing Phil’s fingers and squirming when it feels even better than he was expecting.

Phil hums a pleased sound, catching on quickly and wrapping his fist around Dan’s cock. He squeezes but doesn’t stroke, and Dan feels suddenly desperate. “Get on with it,” he croaks, reaching up to hook his hand round the back of Phil’s neck. “Please.”

Phil laughs and says, “M’not even awake,” but he gives a few slow pumps, twisting on the upstroke. “You’re so hard.”

He really is, almost unusually so. It’s making him feel a little unhinged, actually, like he can’t think about anything else. He humps into Phil’s hand and digs his nails into Phil’s neck and hopes that’ll convey the urgency of his arousal.

If it does, Phil isn’t in any hurry to see him through it. Maybe he really isn’t awake yet, or else his self-proclaimed psychic abilities are really as bullshit as Dan maintains they are, because his strokes are lazy and unfocused. He stops after just a few to toy at the head with his thumb like he’s got all the time in the world.

Dan’s so engorged with blood and tension and _need_ that it’s starting to hurt. “Just fucking do it,” he growls, thrusting his hips upward into nothing.

Phil laughs again, but Dan can’t be cross about it, because at the same time as Phil’s taking the piss, he’s working to pull Dan’s cock out of his sweatpants, presumably for better range of motion. 

“What’s got into you?” he murmurs, turning his head to mouth at Dan’s jaw.

Even that feels electric. “God,” Dan whines. “I don’t know.”

“It’s so pretty.”

Dan looks down to watch as Phil’s fist moves up and down in that same maddeningly unhurried pace, and he can’t deny that the sight is rather gorgeous in its carnality. The flush of his cock is stark next to the milky pale of Phil’s fingers, and something about the way he’s only been unclothed enough to get this very specific job done just makes Dan ache all the more.

“Babe,” Dan all but pleads now. “I really need to—” He can’t even wait long enough to get the words out. His brain has been invaded by his own horniness and if he doesn’t get relief _right fucking now_ he’s going to die. He reaches down and bats Phil’s hand out of the way and starts wanking furiously. No patience, no finesse, absolutely no desire to make it last any longer than it needs to.

Phil doesn’t try to take back over. Instead he ducks his head a little lower to start biting at Dan’s neck, which is just— fuck, so fucking perfect. Dan tilts his head back, mouth hanging open, chest heaving. He’s close already. Touching himself means he knows exactly the right speed and pressure needed to get him off as efficiently as possible, and Phil’s mouth is a revelation, as is his thumb when he pushes it into Dan’s mouth.

Dan closes his lips around it and sucks, and when Phil says, “Fuck,” in a very low quiet voice, Dan feels a pull deep in his gut. He comes hard, heels digging into the fabric of the sofa, Phil’s voice in his ear telling him how hot he is.

When his dick has stopped pulsing, he lets it go, only for Phil to reach down and replace his hand. He gives Dan a warm gentle squeeze, smearing a mess onto his fingers that almost makes Dan wish he could go again. Almost as soon as he’s had the thought, though, he rejects it. The whole experience was such a burst of intensity that he feels about ready for a round two of napping, not sex.

There’s something hard digging into his lower back, and it takes him a shamefully long time to realize that he should be thinking about returning the favour. In theory, he would like to do that. In reality, he kind of feels like he’s been hit by a truck.

“Can you do yourself?” he asks.

Phil laughs. “Pillow talk.”

“We’re not— there’s no pillow. Shut up. I just jizzed my brain out, I think.”

“That’s fully disgusting.”

“Says the guy who’s practically fingerpainting with it.”

“Dan!” Phil squawks. He lifts his sticky hand up, spreading his fingers apart so they can both see the way Dan webs between them. 

“I rest my case.”

Phil chuckles, then wipes his hands on Dan’s sweatpants. Dan doesn’t fuss about it. He’s kind of covered in the stuff. There’s practically a pool of it on his shirt. 

“It’s fine,” Phil says. “I don’t need doing.”

Dan twists his head to the side so he can look at Phil’s face. “You sure?”

Phil nods. “Kind of just wanna eat.”

Dan exhales his relief noisily. “Thank god.”

“A real romantic, you are,” Phil says, then kisses Dan’s cheek. “Go have a shower.”

“I’ll do you later,” Dan promises, because his old familiar friend guilt is already starting to worm its way back into his head. “I’ll do you real good.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Phil smiles. “Whatever you say.”


End file.
